All About You
by moonshelle
Summary: No one knew the answer except him. Only because no one knew what question to ask. If there were no questions, there was no need for answers. Sherlock had kept all the facts related to the object of interest stored away in his mind palace. It wasn't until she showed up in broad daylight, in the middle of London, years later did people begin to question him; what made her so special?
1. Prologue

**12 YEARS AGO**

* * *

"He's a sadist."

Aurelai looked up from the condiments counter, surprised. She often overheard strange conversations but this one was unexpected. Only when her eyes met someone else's did she realize that the statement as directed at her.

She gave the strange man a funny smile. "Oh...?"

Aurelai had noticed him earlier when she and her friends entered Nandos. He had been sitting with a group of university students. She'd assumed that they were a study group, but judging by their open laptops and their facial expressions, they didn't look like they were working well together. They, the man and herself, had made eye contact when she passed by, and upon instinct she gave a polite smile.

She hadn't expected much from her evening. It was a double date. Technically a blind date for her, since Katy, her best friend, had set her up with her boyfriend's best friend. Aurelai hated Andy who was Katy's boyfriend. He was a complete ass to Katy. Though she never did voice her immense dislike, she had repetitively pointed out Andy's nasty behaviour. Her words were constantly dismissed though.

Chuck wasn't much better. She was stuck with him for the evening due to Andy's apparent pact to set his best friend with one of his girlfriend's friends. If Andy was an ass, Chuck was the hole. All Chuck did was make crude opinions and then, with an overbearing stare, expect her to agree. She had managed to get through most of the evening without saying a single sentence - she just had to smile and show interest. Chuck only wanted sounds of affirmation or disapproval. All Aurelai needed to do was follow his queues.

She was the one who volunteered to collect the condiments for her table. It gave her an opportunity to escape and calm herself down. She loved Katy, but allowing herself to be pressured into doing a double date was ridiculous. And to top off the lovely evening, there was now a curly haired man talking to her about sadists.

"The way he leans over to you is not in the manner that one would so do during courtship. His shoulders are hunched over yet he still ensures that he is at his optimum height with a rigid back while sitting. The way his chin is in a permanent state of being parallel to the ground and his inability to show any other facial expression other than a smirk are clearly signs of egoism. He is establishing control by posing as a strong individual next to smaller framed individuals, mainly you, as you are his partner of the evening and the focus of his attention. I'd say that the relationship you have selected will not be continuing in a positive manner. Same for couple you are with as well. The other male clearly displays traits of an egoist who feeds on nothing but the fawning of others - which that girl is clearly providing."

It didn't take long for her to realize that the curly haired man speaking to her was talking about Chuck.

Aurelai laughed. She wasn't interested i her date in the first place. Her only intention was to be civilized and keep Katy happy. And to keep Katy happy, that meant pleasing Andy by showing at least a little interest in her own date. Even though she already knew that Chuck wasn't particularly up to any good, it was nice of someone to warn her. "Thanks."

She started grabbing some napkins.

"That's all?"

Aurelai looked up again. This time, he was frowning at her. "Hmm?"

"Aren't you going to defend your partner?"

"Nope." There wasn't anything to defend.

There was a pause. Aurelai didn't look at him while she tried to figure out how to carry everything back to the table without dropping anything. "I'll be alright. You should be warning my friend instead. She's not listening to me. Maybe she'd listen to you."

"People usually don't listen."

"That is so true," she shrugged, "but what can you do? Katy's pretty alone now. Most of her friends have given up trying to talk her out of this stupid relationship. She's only got me and him, now. I don't want to give up and leave her all by herself."

"Your partner's not any better." The attention was now diverted back to her. She was starting to wonder if this man's face ever changed from his stoic one.

"He's not my _partner. _It's just a one date thing. My friend set me up with him."

"He's expecting more than a 'one date thing.'" Something in the manner in which he said it made it sound more like a positive statement than an assumption.

She dramatically shuddered and feigned a look of intense disgust. Aurelai could have sworn that she saw the strange man's lips twitch up a little.

She would have preferred to start flirting with this statue rather than with the stout man who sat next to her this evening. Unfortunately, she figured that she better return soon before they had reason to question why she was taking so long.

"Thanks for worrying about me." Leaning over as flirtatiously as she could, she lowered her voice, "but I've always been able to charm myself out of troublesome situations."

The man in front of her stiffened, unfamiliar with such close proximity.

Grinning, Aurelai stepped around him and began heading back to Katy. A couple meters away she stopped, "Oh! I'm Aurelai. Nice to meet you, by the way."

He nodded at her, "Sherlock."

Her interaction with him was the best part of her whole date. An hour and a half later, Andy and Chuck were in a heated discussion about the philosophical meaning behind the rap lyrics to a certain song.

She'd seen Sherlock leave Nandos about an hour ago. He had looked over at her table when he was near the entrance and gave her a curt nod. At that moment, Aurelai wondered what would've happened if he had approached Katy to insult Chuck. The thought made her frown. Katy would cry and go to Chuck for consolation. And any explicit insult to Chuck often didn't end well for the speaker.


	2. Chapter 1

**NINE YEARS AGO**

* * *

It was three years before she met Sherlock again. By that time, she didn't remember him. Though, to be honest, Aurelai likely did not remember him three days after their meeting.

It was the 7th of January, 2005. Aurelai had attended an evening lecture that day She'd walked past some some police cars in front of her building and climbed up the stairs, two at a time. A few more sirens could be heard in the distance. The police presence wasn't that uncommon in her neighbourhood. People tended to be drunk and rowdy or anti-social. Nothing that surprised her.

When she opened the stairway door on the fifth floor, she noticed a change in the atmosphere first. Then she noticed that the noise level was higher than normal - with the sounds of conversations and the beeps that one often heard from walkie-talkies.

_Did the Falkirks get robbed again?_ she thought, slowly walking towards her flat.

She felt a pit in her chest as she neared the group of officers. They were near her flat. She prayed that it wasn't hers but something in her mind told her they were tending to her flat.

"Excuse me, ma'am. You'll have to use an alternative route." An officer said to her.

"That's my flat," she squeaked. When she said those words, a female officer glanced at her and then slipped into her flat.

"What is your name?" He asked.

Aurelai ignored his question, "What happened? Were we robbed?" She made an attempt to walk past him only to have him firmly grasp her arm to make her stay still. "Sorry, Miss. But you cannot go in there."

She was about to put up a fuss when the female officer came out with two men behind her. One was in uniform. He was a relatively short man, but his firm expression showed that he wasn't to be argued with. The other was significantly taller, younger and not in uniform. Though he was dressed in civilian clothes, he exuded an air of authority. When the latter turned to stare at her, Aurelai met his eyes briefly before focusing her attention on the uniformed man.

"Inspector Findlay, she'll be needing to an alternative accommodation for tonight," he said dismissively and turned to make his way back into her flat.

"What happened? Were we robbed?" She asked again. The tall man stopped under the door frame but did not look at her again.

Inspector Findlay shook his head and finally spoke up, "What is your full name, Miss?"

"Aurelia Anne Huntington - but all my friends call me Aurelai. What happened?"

"By 'we,' I'm assuming you live with Katherine Lockett?"

How did they know Katy's name? Aurelai froze and felt the colour drain from her face. "Oh my god. Did something happen to her? Did he hurt her? If he did, I swear, I'm gonna..."

"So you do know something. Pray tell, is this her boyfriend that you speak of?" asked the tall man, his attention now fully on her.

Inspector Findlay sighed exasperatedly, "Mr. Holmes-"

Sherlock lifted his hand, silencing his senior.

"What did he do?" she questioned. She wasn't one for name calling people, but Katy had any scrapes or scratches, Aurelai was going to scream out Andy's name in every constabulary across the United Kingdom.

"Have you any friends or relatives that you could stay with, tonight?" Inspector Findlay ignored her questions. Why wasn't he telling her anything?

Aurelai frowned. What would a robbery have to do with Katy? Why would Katy rob her own place? "Yes, friends. But it's examination time, I'd be bothering them if I stayed over, though. What happened?"

"Miss Huntington, unfortunately there has been a homi-"

"A messy ordeal involving battery," Sherlock casually interjected, his eyes set on Aurelai.

The Inspector looked at Mr. Holmes and sighed, the consulting detective was up to his strange antics again. "Perhaps we could arrange something for you to stay somewhere else tonight. I will have Sergeant Lee collect a few of your personal items for you."

Aurelai frowned. _He beat her?_ Andy was going to hell. And she would be the one to send him there. She gracefully slipped away from the two officers reach and away from the Inspector as she spoke, "No, I'd rather pack my own stuff." In her distraction, she didn't notice their vocal protests until she felt a firm arm pressing against her stomach to push her back.

But it was too late.

Stepping under her flat's doorframe, she smelled the metallic odour that she grew up hating. Except this wasn't just a whiff of it... it was overwhelming, flooding her. The odour wasn't as bad as the scene she caught a glimpse of - one that would permanently imprint itself her mind. One that she would still clearly see in her mind even when her eyesight had long deteriorated.

Their foyer and kitchen was fine. It was all in the hallway. Blood was splattered everywhere. She could clearly see parts on the wall leading into the hallway looking like handprints and scratches - someone was struggling... or had struggled. The person restraining her had pushed Aurelai away from her flat too quickly but she didn't know whether to be thankful or not. From the entrance way, her view was obstructed by the layout of her her flat's walls. Even so, she could have sworn that she saw the raven black hair that she envied splayed down on the floor of the hallway.

"Nonono..." This wasn't happening. She must have just imagined it.

Aurelia was devastated. She couldn't process the sounds and the people who were now fussing over her. She didn't even notice Sherlock guiding her away or notice him shielding her from the new onslaught of officers arriving onto her floor and into her flat.

If Katy was gone, then Aurelai would only ever be certain about one thing in her life. That she had failed as a friend. Katy was everything to her. Back in elementary school, Katy did everything to protect Aurelai from the bullies. "They're only jealous of you because you've got the prettiest smile ever," Katy used to say. The ever popular Katy even allowed herself to be bullied to make sure that Aurelai was never alone. But now with Andy, Aurelai realized that she hadn't done the same for Katy.

She let out a strained cry, unknowingly flinching away from the people around her.

She'd failed as a friend. Katy was all alone, she must have been so scared and no one came to protect her, Aurelai kept thinking to herself.

They soon took her to the police station. It was all a blur. Aurelia had buried herself into the safest and quietest place she knew; her mind. She didn't hear Sherlock obnoxiously announcing that she wasn't a suspect nor did she notice how he kept close by whenever an officer approached her - whether to offer her a cup of tea or to ask her questions. They'd asked her for the name of Katy's boyfriend and other contacts. They were trying to track him down.

* * *

By 5 am, she sat in Sergeant Lee's empty cubicle, drowsing in and out of sleep. She wasn't sleeping well and each time she jolted herself awake, her head ached a little more.

They had booked her a room at a B&amp;B, but the owners wouldn't let her pick up her keycard until 2 pm. Not that she wanted to be alone in a room by herself anyways. It was Sergeant Lee who was selected to her settle into the accommodation.

The news of a local murder was spreading like wildfire. Aurelai could see it covering the newsstands as they drove by. **MURDER ON ELM GROVE. UNIVERSITY STUDENT MURDERED. **

Brighton wasn't much of a place for violent crimes after all. The press kept DI Findlay and the rest of the station busy, though. Aurelia and Lee had a bit of trouble driving past the crowd of reporters who were rushing from all directions to get to the press room. Luckily for the pair, no one was interested in Aurelai, no one knew who she was. The station had made sure of that as she wasn't a suspect.

Aurelai wanted to go back to the comfort of her parents' arms. Fairlight Cove wasn't so far from Brighton. They were both along the coastline, but she couldn't bear the idea of the whole village knowing why she was back. And DI Findlay had told her that they may need her at any given time for questioning, so it would be inconvenient for everyone if she just upped and left.

Once Sergeant Lee dropped the young woman off at there accommodation, Aurelai turned the TV onto BBC2 and raised the volume to as loud as she could without raising the complaints of the other guests. She laid immobile on her bed for hours, ignoring her cell phone and bedroom phone each time they rang. It was only when there was knocking on the door did she get up. She felt a dizzy spell when she stood and had to sit back down on her bed until it went away. "Coming," she mumbled, hoping whoever behind the door could hear her.

"You didn't pick up your phone," Sergeant Lee said when Aurelai finally opened the door. The officer let herself into the room, placing a paper bag and a paper tray carrying drinks down on the hotel room's table. "Have you eaten?" she asked as she lowered the TV volume level.

Aurelai shook her head and shut the door. "I'm not hungry."

"I know. I see you haven't unpacked either. Anyways, I got you some Chinese food."

"Thank you..."

"It's Adriana Lee. I only like it when my colleagues call me Sergeant Lee. Sergeant Lee lacks sassiness and spunk so I would rather you to call me Adriana."

The Sergeant Lee settled down onto the couch with the unpacked food and motioned Aurelai over. "Now eat. Even if it's just a little."

Adriana ended up staying until early in the morning, making brief conversations with the mourning girl and watching BBC2. The only reason she left was because she had to get ready for her morning shift.

Once alone again, Aurelai curled back onto her bed. The lights were left on, the leftover food remained on the coffee table, and the curtains remained shut even as the morning rays began to seep in.

* * *

_Smile at strangers. Relax those eyebrows. Smile at strangers. Relax those facial muscles. Smile at strangers... _Aurelai thought to herself as she walked towards the local Sainsbury's. She was wary of bumping into anyone who knew her from university. The dark blonde was known for constantly smiling - for her ever cheerful persona - and even half a second of frowning would gather a herd of concerned people around her asking what was the matter.

It had been 6 days. Six brutally long and depressing days of quiet. Apart from phone calling her parents to let them know she was okay, she had not voluntarily spoken to anyone else. She had wanted to stay in the hotel room but she didn't want Adriana visiting again. Adriana was busy enough with her caseload but she still insisted on spending her free time with Aurelai just to make sure the latter girl was okay.

On Saturday, Adriana told her that they found Andy trying to board the ferry in Dover. He wasn't alone either. Adriana also said that they had reason to suspect that Andy had an accomplice - Chuck. Their photos were now plastered onto the front pages of newspapers and tabloids, constantly haunting her each time she passed a newsstand.

She'd seen Chuck every so often after their double date. She tended to avoid him, but always remained polite and detached around him. He did try to pursue her for a few weeks but quickly lost interest in her. Chuck apparently preferred shorter and meatier women. Aurelai was too tall, he once said, and then looked at her waiting for her to agree. She was 5'7". Someone clearly had a height complex - and that someone wasn't her.

"Miss. Huntington!" Someone called out causing her to look around in surprise when she was jerked out of her mental dialogue.

Aurelai eventually spotted two men expectantly looking at her a few metres away. She didn't recognize them but they didn't look suspicious. They looked just like two men (more like father and son) walking down the street.

Aurelai warily approached them, "Hello."

She wondered if they were news reporters.

When Detective Inspector Findlay realized that she couldn't remember them, he quickly introduced himself and Sherlock again.

"Sorry. I've always been awful with faces and names." _Smile_. Aurelai grimaced.

Sherlock frowned. This was the second time she didn't recognize him. Though it was more interesting that she couldn't remember the faces of the people who she had met on such a significant day for her. Clearly signs of depression. Findlay was easy to forget on a casual meeting -he was insignificant - but Sherlock had never met someone who didn't remember who he was.

He noted down the bags under her eyes, her complexion, and the sallowness of her cheeks. She was losing weight.

"We were just heading to get some lunch. Would you like to join us?" Findlay gently asked.

She didn't want to join them. But they probably had some information for her - or at least answers for her questions. Mustering up a weak smile, she nodded.

The walk to the coffee shop was mostly in an awkward silence. Sherlock did not speak at all. It was mainly DI Findlay making short conversations about mild topics to Aurelai.

She stuck to ordering a French vanilla latte when they arrived at the cafe. She wasn't hungry but it would have been rude to not order anything. Sherlock stuck to coffee.

"Are you training to be a detective or are you a student?" Aurelai asked Sherlock while DI Findlay gave the waitress his food order. Mr. Holmes did look quite young.

"Consulting detective."

"Oh." That was Aurelai's standard response to things she didn't understand but didn't feel like questioning.

"The world's only one."

"Mr. Holmes helps us out on cases. He is very good at deducing facts from crime scenes," DI Findlay explained once the waitress walked away.

_Not very good. I am excellent_. Sherlock thought, repressing himself from the correction. He had better things to say, "Sherlock Holmes."

Aurelai blinked, "Well, it is certainly nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes."

"I am Sherlock Holmes."

DI Findlay looked at the male sitting beside him strangely. "Yes, we have established that."

Sherlock frowned and placed his elbows on the table. "Three years ago. You went on a double date with an idiot, your best friend, and her boyfriend."

"Oh there he goes again," DI Findlay sighed, leaning back against his chair. He rubbed his forehead, preparing for a headache that would likely come if the obnoxious man made their case's witness cry.

Aurelai, on the other hand, felt her own head begin to ache a little. How did he know this?

"Sherlock Holmes," he annunciated each syllable. "Sherlock."

She inhaled when it clicked and remembered his introduction at their first encounter, "Oh. You're Sherlock Holmes."

He was the one who warned her about Chuck. Smart one - he was.

Sherlock nodded, satisfied with his accomplishment, relaxing back into his chair.

"This has got to be the strangest conversation topic I've heard in a while," Findlay said when he realised that Sherlock was done with his task and that no one was going to burst into tears.

The mood turned for the worse when Findlay was half way through his toastie.

"They will be starting the prosecution process on Thursday. The CPS is mounting up their case as we speak. It is more than likely that you will be called up to be a witness."

Aurelai nodded, taking a sip of her sweet drink. Except, despite the spoonfuls of sugar she'd stirred in, she still didn't taste anything.

"Miss. Lockett's parents will also be coming as well."

_Oh no_. They probably hated her as much as she hated herself right now. "Okay."

At Aurelai's lack of words, Sherlock spoke up, "A jury trial is ridiculous. It is clear who did it. There is no need for silly re-enactments of soap operas. It's much more efficient to lock them up straight away."

"Well, they are under custody right now, and will remain that way," DI Findlay said. "They wouldn't be for the duration of the proceedings if they hadn't tried to sneak onto the Dover ferry to Calais. They are an escape hazard. But it's the due diligence process. Miss. Huntington, the CPS are doing their best. Do not worry."

"Thank you," she softly replied. She wasn't comforted though. Katy was gone. Even with Andy and Chuck locked up, Katy was still gone.

"It would be much faster if I spoke to the them, to explain the situation," Sherlock contemplated.

"No, you will not." Findlay did not look pleased.

Aurelai was confused, "Speak to who?"

"The jury. They're ordinary citizens. Idiots. All of them. A little guidance would do them good and bring justice."

"No, you will not," Findlay's voice darkened considerably. "It will be in contempt of court."

Nevertheless, Sherlock continued, "Directly would be the easiest route, but the consequences if caught are much too dire. Perhaps I could casually converse the facts out with another in front of one or two. Idiots like to eavesdrop. Of course, I would select the one who is the most capable of gossiping. Or perhaps I could testify. I know the facts and I know what I am talking about. It'll get the information out to everyone in the courtroom without any risk of misinformation. Yes that would be a -"

"Mr. Holmes!" Findlay shouted out. He looked around the shop, noticing that the volume level around him had decreased significantly. With a harsh whisper, he said, "You are unqualified and a stranger to the parties of the case. You will not be testifying nor will you be tampering with the jury. I-"

Aurelai's ears perked up. "He's unqualified?" Wasn't he a special consulting detective working on cases with the detective inspector? If so, he could be the expert witness.

Findlay froze while Sherlock smirked. "Excellent ears, you've got there. I solve cases that others - like him - are incapable of solving. I am more qualified than anyone in the force." He didn't need useless certificates and badges when he had his brain.

Qualified or unqualified, if he was a stranger to the case, then wouldn't that make him a third party? It then dawned on her, "Isn't that ...illegal?" She glanced at DI Findlay as she carefully whispered the last word.

Sherlock shrugged, "Does it matter? I'm good at what I do. Think of it as proportionality; The costs of my lacking a badge against the costs of allowing criminals to remain loose and causing mayhem."

Findlay sighed. He was going to lose his job if this information got out. The worst part? He had no one to blame but himself for letting this nutjob walk into his office.

Perhaps she could just think of him as a volunteer. Like those who volunteer to be firefighters or soup kitchens. "Oh. I suppose I should thank you for trying to helping me, then."

Sherlock gave her a strange look, they hadn't interacted much. Yet the few lines that she had said made him confused. It was unusual. But she wasn't that much of an idiot, he figured that much.


	3. Chapter 2

Mrs. Lockett?" Aurelai shook as she approached the mourning couple.

This was the first time that she had spoken to them since Katy's death. She didn't know how they would respond to her. Would they blame her?

"Aurelia," the elderly woman reached out and pulled Aurelai into a tight hug.

A little weight lifted off her chest when she realized that Mrs. Lockett wasn't going to give her the cold shoulder, "I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing you could have done, dear," said Mr. Lockett as he placed a hand on Aurelai's shoulder. "You did your best."

The Locketts had long known that Andy was a bad influence on their daughter. They had watched their thriving gemstone go from adored to ignored by her friends. Despite it all, Aurelai always stayed close to Katy. When the Locketts expressed their concern to her, Aurelai began sending them frequent updates about their daughter's wellbeing.

In Katy's last few months, she had also blocked out her own parents. The more the Locketts tried to pull Katy away from Andy, the more Andy would pull Katy away.

"I could have tried harder," she said as she pulled away from the hug.

"No, you could not, Aurelia. She was never going to give him up," Mrs. Lockett wiped away a tear. "You were good friend to her. Don't you ever think otherwise." The female Lockett patted Aurelai on the cheek.

The noise level in the court hallway changed, causing them to look up. People were now entering the chamber.

The trial begins.

* * *

"I have witnesses reports saying that you and Katherine had been arguing a few nights in a row leading up to the date of her murder."

Aurelai's head shot up, "_What?_"

The Defence was interrogating her. As if it wasn't nerve wracking enough to be on the podium in front of the a full courtroom, the Defence was now trying to make her the antagonist of the case.

"Miss. Huntington, do you deny that you and Miss. Lockett were having an unstable friendship? One where you were constantly arguing?"

"No." Katy had been completely isolating herself. Locking herself up in her own room whenever she was apart from Andy. Aurelai had gotten frustrated with trying to get Katy out of the hole that she was digging herself. Ultimately, they began to fight over the same subject over and over again. Katy would wail about missing Andy and Aurelai would scream that he was no good for her.

"Do you deny that you disapproved of Katherine Lockett's relationship with Andy Hayes?"

"No."

"Documents say that you have been friends with Miss. Lockett for twelve years. The relationship you had with Miss. Lockett was a rather isolated. Would you say that Miss. Lockett had many friends?"

"...No."

"Then would how many friends did Miss. Locket have? Excluding her boyfriend, of course."

"Just me."

"Then perhaps, Miss Huntington, you wanted to keep her isolated. Your alibi that evening was that you were attending an evening lecture. There is no one to prove of your presence. You also admit to disapproving her relationship with Mr. Hayes and you admit to having a long term relationship with her. The Defence has reason to believe that you resorted to extreme measures out of fear of her choosing Mr. Hayes over her relationship with you."

Aurelai stopped breathing. When she realized that she needed to breathe, it came in a short gasp. It wasn't enough air. She needed air.

Aurelai was having a panic attack.

The judge, upon noticing her distress, called for a recess. Aurelai quickly stumbled out away from the podium and out of the courtroom, carefully evading the everyone who was trying to reach out for her.

She needed to be alone. She needed air. She needed to get away. Aurelai only made it halfway through an empty hallway before she collapsed against the wall. She'd never had a panic attack before. It was frightening.

When she finally calmed down, she weakly pulled herself upright. Upon discovering the restroom symbol down the hallway, she got up and entered it.

Luckily for her, it was empty. She turned on the sink faucet and ran the cold water over her hands. The cool feeling calmed her down a little. Water was _clean_. It wouldn't hurt her.

Aurelai had always had OCD. She'd always known about it. It wasn't until a few years ago did she finally learn what triggered it and what calmed it down. Her mood was an absolute trigger. It was always the worst when she was upset or frustrated. And lately, her obsession with cleanliness was on overdrive. Having to wash her hands every time she touched something in her hotel room wasn't something she enjoyed, but it made her mind feel better.

She heard the door open as she splashed some water on her face. Her face still stung as she tried to refrain herself from crying. The coolness of water was helping a bit. As she wiped her face dry, she saw none other than Sherlock Holmes in the reflection of the mirror. He standing by the entrance.

"This is the ladies' room," she told him softly. The Defence made blaming her sound so logical that she almost believed that she was the murderer. Perhaps Mr. Holmes blamed her too.

_Oh my god._ What would the Locketts think of her now if they thought she was the murderer?

"Explain to them what you were fighting with Miss. Lockett over. If they want to use witness reports, then use it against them. If your neighbours could hear your argument, then surely they could hear her arguing with Hayes that evening. There may be no security in your building to show the two of them leaving, but there is CCTV on Sussex University and there is CCTV on the public transit proving that you were, in fact, out of the vicinity when the incident occurred. If the Defence tries to interrupt you, ignore them and continue. You don't need the defence, you need the jury. They will listen to you. You do that and I'll do the rest."

He was helping her.

"Mr. Holmes. I -"

"Sherlock. Mr. Holmes is my father. Or brother dearest." He scrunched his nose up in disgust when he mentioned the latter relative.

"Sherlock," she breathed out. "Thank you."

"You always say that."

Aurelai closed her eyes, "Because I genuinely do appreciate your actions and words. And because I apparently am incapable of helping myself."

Sherlock didn't respond and, instead, opened the door to let the both of them out.

The entrance to the courtroom was rather crowded with people waiting to get back in. When the CPS spotted her, they motioned for her to go over to them.

"Just do as I say." Sherlock said without looking at her. He then swiftly headed for the exit of the court building.

He wasn't much for attending courts, testimonies were boring especially when the case facts were obvious. He much preferred the Magistrates' and Tribunals as they were less publicised, glamourized, and did things quickly and correctly. Yet, he still found himself voluntarily attending the court today. Life was odd

_You'll be okay._ Aurelai heard a voice in her mind. She couldn't tell who's voice it was, but for the first time in weeks, she internally felt a little at peace. Aurelai would do as Sherlock said - because just the thought of following through with his instructions made her self doubt go away.


	4. Chapter 3

There were graphic photos as evidence. The amount of times that Aurelai had to leave the courtroom to calm herself down was unnecessarily high. She may as well have avoided it all together - she knew that - but she felt obligated to do so as a way to support Katy's deceased spirit.

The Crown also did awfully well with their interrogation. Andy and Chuck suddenly changed their plea to not guilty. They admitted to their actions in full detail.

In too much detail.

Their change in plea was strange. Aurelai briefly wondered if there had been sentence bargaining.

But at the moment she didn't care; they were confessing what they did. Chuck had gone first. He was the one who initiated it all, he said. He promoted the idea of ruining 'that unappreciative bitch since she didn't know what was good for her.'

Katy, they claimed, wouldn't stop whining to Andy whenever he went to work or out with his friends. They claimed that she was unfaithful and useless and clingy. Their bluntness made Aurelai physically ache.

Half way through Andy's testimony, she couldn't take it anymore and slipped out of the courtroom. He was Katy's lover, yet the words he used were too cruel to be one. She had always known Andy was no good for Katy, yet she had never expected this much from him.

Out of the court, nearly slipped when she lowered into a sitting position on the ground against the building's brick walls. She felt the pre-eminence of another panic attack coming. She'd never had them before, and now she had had two in two weeks.

_Poor Katy,_ was all she could think when she finally managed to gasp enough air into her system.

The chilly winter air wasn't suitable for her current state, but Aurelai had forgotten her coat and scarf inside the courtroom and didn't want to go back inside.

But the cold was good. It made her feel something other than the red hot anger she was trying to keep down.

She spotted Sherlock's figure striding across the street towards the building. He looked distracted, but when he spotted her, he immediately changed his direction.

"Hello," he said as he approached her.

"Hi," she had to strain her neck up to look at him. She consciously made the effort to not shiver from the cold.

"How much detail?"

He wasn't even asking her about whether or not the defendants' testimony proved their guilt or not. He _knew_ that they were pleading guilty.

"A lot," her voice cracked a little. "What did you do?"

Sherlock smirked. She was smarter than he gave her credit for. "Nothing that included jury tampering."

Despite the situation, he managed to earn a smile from Aurelai.

"Thank you, Sherlock."

He gave her a nod. After a brief period of silence, he took a step back. "I'll retrieve your possessions."

And into the building he went. Aurelai looked at the spot where he was just standing and blinked. He noticed?

As soon as he returned with her items, she wrapped herself up. She tucked her pink fingers into her the warm pockets of her coat and lowered her face so that her nose was buried under her scarf. "Thanks."

Silence.

Eventually, she asked, "Would you like to go for coffee?"

Sherlock looked at her but didn't respond again. Somehow she sensed that he was agreeing and began to walk to her favourite cafe. He followed her.

Sherlock had seen what was happening inside the courtroom, and despite his passive facial expression, something about the air around him seemed quite pleased. If he thought it was going well, then she would trust him on that.

* * *

"There wasn't any sentence bargaining. They were too late for that. Pleading guilty long after the court doors opened was stupid of them. It was a waste of time and a waste of the taxpayer's money." DI Findlay stated. It was a few days after the two men were convicted.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "They shortened the trial by admitting it. Would you rather that they continued to claim they were _not_ guilty?"

Aurelai, DI Findlay, and Sherlock were at a coffee shop yet again. They were discussing the closure of the case. The ended soon after Andy and Chuck's plea. Chuck happily took the credit for the plotting and initiating the attack whilst Andy expressed his need for self-affirmation through his actions.

"Of course not! That would only extend the suffering for the -" DI Findlay glanced at Aurelai as he lowered his voice, "- affected friends and family of the victim."

Aurelai hadn't spoken much as the two men continued their strange debate/conversation. They weren't arguing or trying to prove their points but it didn't sound like they were agreeing with each other either.

Twenty five years. She kept thinking about that number. Andy and Chuck would be nearing fifty by the time they were let out. But what about probation? What would happen if they were released on probation?

Aurelai felt a sharp pang go through her chest. What if they come for her?

She held her breath and tried to remain calm, hoping that she wouldn't start gasping. Her anxiety levels had been bothering her for the past few weeks. If she learned anything at all, recently, it was that she did _not_ like panic attacks. It didn't help that she was even more anxious because she didn't want to have another panic attack.

"They are a flight risk. Their attempt to escape to Calais is recorded into their files. Should they be allowed on probation - which is very unlikely - they will be strictly monitored."

Aurelai looked at Sherlock. Despite her exhaustion, she figured that her facial expressions must have been very open for him to know what she was thinking.

"Oh."

"Though it is true; twenty-five years gives them plenty of time to plot your demise."

"Mr. Holmes!"

Aurelai blinked, and slowly spoke, "Then would you be around to put them back in for another twenty-five years?"

Findlay looked at her in horror as Sherlock smirked. She was unusual, alright. "You'd be already dead. I have no intention of staying in Brighton but if I do receive news of your assassination, you can be rest assured that I will lock them up for life."

"Oh good," she distractedly looked into her mug.

"Now. On to the good news, Findlay. Any new missing persons?" Sherlock looked eagerly at the officer. Aurelai blinked, trying to process the irony of his words.

Findlay uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his lap. "Actually, there hasn't been. It's been three weeks now, we haven't received any reports."

Sherlock dramatically sighed. "Just when I thought things were going well!"

Findlay looked at Aurelai, checking to see how she was coping with their abnormal conversation. She didn't seem to have a clue as to what was going on. All the better. "I don't think now is the time to be discussing this, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock followed Findlay's gaze, landing on the woman sitting across from him. "She can cope with it. You should be questioning the media for their lack of publicizing it, you'd think everyone would know about it by now."

Aurelai fell into Sherlock's trap, now curious, "Know about what?"

He smirked. "Missing persons. 5 missing individuals in the past 8 months all with no leads. The only thing that links them to each other is the fact that they're all hermits. All with stay-at-home jobs, no friends, and estranged families. A lot of individuals to go missing any tears and community searches, and more importantly, there's no one to miss them enough to notice their disappearance immediately. Whoever the culprit is, he's been doing his research."

She frowned, "Missing? Oh my goodness."

Findlay leant forward, "Now there's nothing to worry about, Miss. Huntington. We've got things under control."

Sherlock snorted, leaning back comfortably into his chair.

"But how come I haven't heard of any of this in the news?" Aurelai's concern was visible. Katy's face, and Andy's and Chuck's were all over the news. Surely if this has been happening for months now, she would've seen something about it.

The curly haired Holmes smirked again, "Good question, Aurelai. What do you think? The media only reports the news that sells. And none of these missing persons have got that quality that sells. Just hermits, ugly from what I've seen of their photographs and absolutely boring from the lives they live within their flat. Nothing fancy, nothing interesting about abuse and more importantly, no hideously deformed bodies found in their wake to report about."

"That's not right."

He carelessly shrugged. "When is anything ever right?"

"Are you trying to find out where they went or who took them?" she looked at both men.

"A man_,_" Sherlock corrected, using the singular term.

"How do you know? That's so... specific"

Sighing, he leant forward onto the table, "Each missing person disappears in the same fashion. Nothing in their search history on their computers and nothing in their apartments show any distinct interest to traveling, or even to leave their houses.

"Shoes owned by them are all well worn, almost to the point of falling apart, yet they refuse to purchase new ones. Why? Because they have no intention of going out often enough to justify having to go _out_ to purchase new ones. Handset buttons are used to the point where their digits have rubbed off and if not, it is because they own headsets. Newest versions, of course, because they can be purchased online and delivered straight to the door. They work from home, and their only sources of communication to employers, co-workers and family is by phone or by their computers.

"They have food delivered to their homes on a monthly basis. Now if they intended to go traveling or voluntarily missing, surely they would have accounted for the fact that whatever perishable mail subscriptions they've made should be cancelled whilst away.

"But these five individuals all work in separate and unrelated companies. Their chat-logs don't have any strange communications identifying them as lonely or in need of companionship. They just disappear. They're taken when they actually go out of their apartment. This is an easily accessible city, surely they justify the times they leave their homes as exercise, so they must be walking to nearby or familiar shops. Taken at night or in broad day light. Someone's been watching. It is a man, strong enough to extort strength to overpower struggling or obese targets, one with a car..." Sherlock's eyes were distant as he looked out the window, searching intensely for something.

After about 5 beats of silence and upon realizing Sherlock was done speaking, Findlay turned to Aurelai, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "It's a bit frightening how he does it, isn't it? Makes you wonder what else he knows but doesn't say. Although most of the time you just wish he wouldn't talk."

Aurelai flashed the DI a quick smile before turning her facial expression to one of disapproval. "That's not very nice to say you wish he wouldn't talk. I, for one, really appreciate the fact that he is trying to help even though he doesn't need to."

Findlay shrugged, "Yes, I suppose." He took in the juxtaposition of having this young university student reprimanding an old gentleman (an officer, no less) on manners.

Sherlock looked at Aurelai from his peripheral vision. He still couldn't figure out his opinion of her. She wasn't annoying, but she wasn't brilliant either. Life would be so much easier if she was a mindless baboon with a fancy name.


	5. Chapter 4

Another thing on her checklist was completed.

She had officially withdrawn from university. Aurelai had not only missed her exams and a whole stream of lectures, but she had also lost interest in going. It was time to find out what to do with her life. It was a new chapter; she needed it to be.

She had also moved back to Fairlight Cove with her parents. Sergeant Adrianna Lee and her colleagues had kindly helped pack up Aurelai's items from the shared flat. There was no way that Aurelai could go back into that two bed flat she once shared with Katy. Even the thought of doing so made her anxious and sent her into tears with violent images flashing in the back of her mind. She was told that they cleaned up her flat. It was likely that the walls were repainted as well. But she couldn't bring herself to go back. She could almost say that she could feel an invisible hand roughly pushing her back every time she even thought about returning.

It had been four months. She was feeling a lot better but Aurelai was still on the verge of self-diagnosing herself with bipolar disorder. She had good days and really bad days with nothing but Katy on her mind.

Once every few days, she would drive back out to Brighton to meet up with Sherlock. At first, DI Findlay joined them as well. He enjoyed her company, apparently Aurelai remined Findlay of his granddaughter who had moved to Manchester. The three of them would talk about mild topics or little facts about cases without placing Findlay at risk for revealing too much information to Aurelai.

Sherlock had recently caught the kidnapper of the missing persons. In fact, he caught the suspect in the act of collecting his next victim. That made Findlay preoccupied with the press releases and in finding the locations of where the suspect confessed to have stored the many bodies. Eventually Findlay's case load grew too much to give him free time and he stopped coming to their meetings.

Findlay's absence didn't affect Aurelai and Sherlock very much. In fact, they got on just as well, if not better, with their frequent moments of silence and odd moments of rambles.

Sherlock once complained to her that people kept telling him that he needed to learn to socialize. And since Aurelai knew that the only way she would get out of the house was to have an appointment with someone, she agreed to continue these meetings.

Aurelai thought that she benefited the most from their meetings. He kept her distracted but didn't force her to converse when she was in a mood. And when she did want to talk, he let her ramble on. Each time they met up, she felt a little more at peace. It was like meeting up with a therapist, except Sherlock could never qualify as a therapist with his untactful and insensitive statements. She had pulled away from her uni friends. Though they did their best to identify her as Aurelai and not as 'Katy's friend,' they were still somewhat awkward around her. She didn't blame them, it was hard to maintain a friendship with someone who was no longer at university - the one main thing that they all had in common.

Back at Fairlight Cove, everyone was still mourning and it was just altogether a bad atmosphere for her to be in. The contrast between her University environment and village environment was ridiculous.

Sherlock, thankfully, provided just the right balance of casualness and insensitivity that she needed.

When she arrived at the coffee shop, she spotted Sherlock's familiar figure already settled in.

"Hey. Sorry, I'm late."

"You're only a minute late."

"Only one?" Her head shot up in surprise. "I thought I was four. My watch must be ahead." She didn't catch on to the fact that he actually counted her one minute of tardiness.

The spring air was still chilly. Her cheeks were flushed and she was slightly out of breath. By the time she unbundled herself, a Maple Latte arrived for her and a coffee with two sugars arrived for him. "Oh, you ordered for me. Thank you!"

His lips twitched.

"I've got a present for you."

Sherlock then frowned, "Why?"

"You might not realize how much you've done for me but I still want to show my appreciation." She slid a box over to him. "An appreciation gift _pour toi._"

She was going to miss this fellow when he left. He apparently had finished a few more cases for DI Findlay and was being recommended to another DI in London. Sherlock had complained to her about the stupidity of recommendations yet their usefulness in getting what he wanted. Today would be the last time that she would see him as the both headed to different directions with their lives.

He looked at her strangely before stiffly pulling the box closer to his side of the table. "Do I open it now?"

"You can open it whenever you want to. As long as you open it within this lifetime, I'll be quite pleased." She took a sip of her sweet drink. In every cafe she'd ever been to, hot or cold, she always chose their sweetest drinks. Her sweet tooth was insatiable.

He pulled the box open, finding a navy blue scarf in it tucked away in white tissue paper.

"Your trench coat is lovely, but surely your neck gets a little chilly from the neglect in the colder months," she said. "It's cashmere, so I'm _praying_ that it's comfortable for you." She giggled.

Sherlock kept his eyes on her as he took it out of its box. "It is acceptable."

Aurelai grinned, "Glad you like it."

"I'll wear it."

"Even when you're back in London?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Sherlock stirred his coffee, his new scarf rested on his lap.

She suddenly grinned mischievously and leaned forward, "I'll give you a tip for when you're back in London."

Sherlock looked at her strangely. Why would he need a tip? He is perfectly capable surviving in the City. He had lived there by himself back when he still attended university.

"Play nice."

"Bo-oring," he continued stirring his coffee.

"Complement people when you need a favour. Or imitate the loveliest version of someone you know. Ladies will hate me for saying this, but a little flirtation really doesn't hurt. It flatters them - lightens up their mood after they knowingly refused you something. You're good at paying attention to the tiny details so make use of it. Comment on it. People like being noticed."

Sherlock turned his attention to her. She did make sense. "Is this how you get what you want?"

"Not lately, no. I don't think I've wanted anything materialistic or any favours recently. Except sweets. But playing nice used to get me into and out of trouble. I do try my best not to burn bridges."

"And if I wanted to get a human skull from a collection at a university museum?"

This time, it was Aurelai's turn to look at him funny. "...You could try."

Sherlock smirked and mirrored her pose by leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "Your hairstyle is different. Did you do something different with it, today?"

No she didn't, but she played along. Aurelai giggled, "Oh yes, I did! Now about that skull you wanted, I might be able to do something about it..."

"It looks dashing on you."

Aurelai tapped her finger on her chin thoughtfully. "As it turns out, I can! I just happened to be carrying one in my invisible purse! A human skull for you, kind sir." She dramatically handed him an imaginary skull.

Sherlock laughed.

It was such a shame that London didn't have more non-idiots like her. He decided then that he was going to miss having acceptable company.


	6. Chapter 5

**PRESENT DAY**

* * *

"Oh slow down, Sherlock!" panted Watson, trying to keep his pace up with Sherlock's. They had just left the crime scene and were on their way back to their flat. Sherlock, as per usual when on an exciting case was buzzing through the city - forgetting that he had his loyal blogger trailing after him.

John was lucky that his limp was psychosomatic when he met Sherlock. Not so lucky about what caused it, but had it been a genuine injury, John knew his civilian life would have remained dull and boring. And he was repetitively reminded of that luck whenever Sherlock rushed out of the scene while expecting the frustrated or stunned John to follow after.

"Come on, Watson, think! It has something to do with the caterpillars. Tiny little green ones. What on earth were they doing there? It must have some sort of effect. Think. Now what would a -" Sherlock suddenly silenced and stopped walking.

John looked up at him, expecting a revelation (and if John was lucky, an explanation) from Sherlock.

Except, _as usual,_ Sherlock did the unexpected. He didn't burst out into a cheshire grin nor did he speak. Instead, he sped up his pace down the sidewalk leaving John in the dust.

"Sherlock!" The gray haired man shouted before chasing after the taller man.

Seconds later, he nearly crashed into his tall friend's backside when the latter stopped abruptly. John made a face, "What's going on now?"

Sherlock then resumed to a casual normal walking pace, as if he had not just sprint a couple yards down the street. John should have been suspicious about Sherlock's jerkier than usual movements but, instead, John thanked the stars that Sherlock didn't drive. He couldn't imagine the roads ever being safe with Sherlock's erratic movements or with his lack of concern for the civilians around him.

"What on earth are you up to, Sherlock?" John glared, again following his friend.

When he realized that Sherlock's attention was set firmly elsewhere, he looked at the direction of where his eyes were pointed at and saw a lady standing on the sidewalk.

Well actually, there were many people bustling up and down the street doing their afternoon shopping. Sherlock could have been looking at anyone in that general direction. But there was one lady in particular that John noticed standing out from the crowd, and John, despite himself, had to admit that her profile was pretty. The light haired lady was in a striking red wool coat coat was staring distractedly into a shop display. She stood still, unlike the rest of the Londoners rushing up and down the pathways with bags in their arms. Her hair was carelessly tied back with loose pieces flatteringly framing her face.

As Sherlock continued walking in that general direction, John realized that Sherlock's attention really was on that woman. The doctor felt a flash of slight disappointment, if Sherlock knew her, then the chances were that she was either involved in the criminal world, underground world, or the government. John inspected her again and weighed the chances. She was definitely pretty and appeared unaware of the happenings around her. Perhaps the lady in red was one of Mycroft's women or private spies.

The pair slowed down when they were only a few feet away from her, close enough for no pedestrians to slip between their gap to get by. When she did notice their presence and attention, she turned to look at the two men and smiled politely, expecting a sales pitch or questions for directions.

"Aurelai," he called out. She looked at Sherlock when he said her name, her facial expressions revealing nothing of recognition.

If she had forgotten who he was again, this would be the third time. And if she did, Sherlock mentally vowed that, when she died, he would preserve her brain and dissect it to see what on earth was wrong with her memory.

"Oh! Mr. Holmes!" Her face eventually brightened up when she finally figured out why he looked so familiar - and knew her name.

Sherlock nodded, pleased. Except she had returned to a more formal title for him.

"Sherlock," he corrected. He unknowingly released a breath that he had been holding.

"Oh yes - Sherlock. How are you? It's been a few years!"

"Yes." Nine years since he last saw her. She hadn't physically changed much. Visual symptoms of depression were gone, but what did he expect? She has had nearly a decade to recover from the loss of her companion. However, something about the way she carried herself was different. Of course, it would be unnoticeable to her loved ones, but he was Sherlock, and he could sense the change. The air around her was much more refined. Almost... a little distant.

"What a coincidence to bump into you here." Aurelai turned to face Sherlock's friend, "Hello."

"Oh. John Watson," he quickly introduced himself and holding his hand out as he did. "I'm... Sherlock's friend."

"Aurelia Huntington," she shook John's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"And yourself," John returned to placing his hands back into the warmth of his pockets.

Sherlock frowned. She introduced herself as Aurelia Huntington, her formal birth name, rather than her favorite alternative - Aurelai. In one of their coffee shop meetings, she had told him that people had a tendency of mispronouncing her name when she was younger - that it was too much of a mouthful for them. Why and when did she return to it?

Analyzing her again, he noted down that her complexion was much better, returning back to the time he first met her. Her facial expressions were visibly relaxed and she appeared well kept, happy - She was taking care of herself. There were no signs of partners or pets. Perhaps she had an occupation that required her to remain uncommitted and travel ready. No, nothing with traveling. Aurelai had never shown to Sherlock any interest in traveling.

Then what was her occupation? She had backed out of her science degree and he ruled it out that she worked in a lab or in academia. It wasn't an office job; there were no ink stains on her clothing. In fact, her clothing was well kept, _fashionable_. Perhaps she worked in the fashion industry? That would be such a shame, a complete misuse of her interesting mind on shallow and unrewarding discussions over fabric colors.

"It's very Holly Golightly, isn't it?" Aurelai interrupted Sherlock's train of thought as she motioned at the mannequin's outfit that she was admiring just a minute ago. She was making small talk.

Sherlock frowned. He didn't know a Holly Golightly.

John cleared his throat, "Oh yes. You're right. _Breakfast at Tiffany's,_ isn't it?"

"It's a bit late for breakfast," Sherlock interjected.

John was about to explain to Sherlock that it was a movie - a cultural one at that - when Aurelai casually and smoothly changed the subject. "It is. Are you still staying in London?"

John appreciated the conversational subject change. It saved him the trouble and annoyance of explaining to Sherlock why the movie was relevant only to be put down (in public and in front of the pretty lady) for making references when clothing was merely clothing and had no meaning.

"I am. And you are now living here," Sherlock stated. She didn't appear to know anything about his reputation. No immediate recognition or change in the way she looked at him. He was all over the news and local social media for his re-appearance 4 months ago. So surely less than that or she would have commented. "For a while now, but not very long. Two or three months. You're quite comfortable."

Her face lit up and she nodded, "Nearing three months now. I just got myself a little studio in Soho."

Sherlock frowned, "By yourself." _In London?_

"Yes," her smile faltered a little. "I much prefer the quiet nowadays. But don't worry, Sherlock, my neighbors have been incredibly kind to me so far - welcoming, in fact. Which is surprising since I didn't expect such attitudes from neighbors now that I'm in the City. It's a neighborhood watch community, though, so maybe that's why."

In other words, there was no actual security. Sherlock maintained his frown. "Why in that borough?"

"Well, I like it. Everyone's so creative there. Though it's not like I can afford to be picky anyways," Aurelai answered. He was just like she remembered, asking odd questions that people wouldn't dare to ask unless they were extremely familiar.

"I'm at Marylebone." Sherlock commented.

"Oh? Maybe I'll visit some time once I get a hang of the public transportation here. I've been so spoiled with being able to walk or drive everywhere up until I moved here." Aurelai shrugged, "But at least I don't have to worry about the upkeep of a car here!"

No response. Just staring.

When ten seconds passed without Sherlock talking, John took it as a cue to leave and cleared his throat, "Well, it was really nice to meet you Miss. Huntington. I think we will be getting on with our day now. Sherlock?"

John made a motion to walk back to their flat, except Sherlock didn't budge.

"Coffee."

The doctor looked at his friend strangely. The statement in question wasn't directed at him, however, it was directed at the lady.

"Oh... I would love to, but I have a meeting that I really can't be late for. Perhaps another time? I could give your my number."

Sherlock pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it out for Aurelai.

John gasped, but covered it with a cough. This was not an everyday occurrence. Sherlock casually allowing another to hold his phone? The only times he'd done that was to have someone type a message for him out of sheer laziness.

"It's a chilly February, isn't it, Mr. Watson?" she commented as she entered her number into the mobile device.

"It's John. And, uh, yes, but I hear it will be much warmer next week."

"Here," she returned the phone back to Sherlock. "Really? That's good to hear. I've been really missing the warm sun."

She smiled at Sherlock, "Well I really gotta go now. I'll see you around?"

Sherlock didn't reply, he continued his staring. Unfazed by his quietness, she turned her attention to John, "And it was really nice to meet you, John."

John returned the comment and Aurelai began walking down the street.

The two men stood there until she turned the corner.

When her bright red jacket disappeared from view, John finally spoke up, "She seems like a happy lady. How do you know her - Sherlock?"

John looked around when he realized the curly haired man was no longer standing next to him.

Sherlock was already a few yards away from him. As he chased after the black haired fellow, John wondered if someone on this planet could invent a Sherlockian decipher.

John would willingly pay a lump sum for that.

* * *

When they returned back into Sherlock's flat, John spoke up again. "She's awfully pretty, isn't she? How do you know her, Sherlock?"

Sherlock jumped onto his seat and settled himself comfortably. He closed his eyes and pressed the pads of his fingers together.

Upon the lack of response, John cleared his throat and repeated the question.

It took ten annoying seconds before Sherlock finally replied, "Who?"

"Aurelia."

"Hmmm." Sherlock hummed, maintaining his meditation pose.

Although he knew Sherlock wouldn't see it, John still gave the seated man a weird look. "Sherlock? I was asking you about-"

Sherlock interrupted. "I would have thought you would be loyal to your _fiancee_, John, rather than already fancying a girl whom you only met for five minutes. How would Mary feel?"

John exhaled in disbelief, "I wasn't... I was just _asking_ about - Why does it feel like you're avoiding the subject? Is she one of Mycroft's spies?"

Sherlock laughed out loud, causing the doctor to jump back in surprise.

"Haha, good one, John. Spies, haha. Fetch some tea and biscuits from Mrs. Hudson, I need to work on this case." Sherlock quickly jumped out of his seat and headed towards his lab table.

That was the end of that conversation. The light haired man opened his mouth again to speak but decided against it.


	7. Chapter 6

John noticed her red coat and dark blonde hair first. Though it wasn't really that hard to miss her seeing as she was the only other human being moving about in the quiet residential street. And the fact that the buildings were all ivory coloured, contrasting greatly from her bold choice in outerwear. Aurelia Huntington, the woman who he'd bumped into a few days ago, was locking up the front door of one apartment flat.

"Aurelia!" he called out once he could make out her facial features and was 100% sure that it was really the pretty blonde.

Startled by the unexpected noise, she looked up to see who was calling her from up the street, only to stumble a bit down the final 3 porch steps. Luckily for Aurelai, she was holding on to the handrail. John immediately sped up his pace to her just in case she did fall face forward.

"Hello! John, is it?" she asked when he was close enough - quickly straightening up to hide her embarrassment. "I'm awful with names, I really do hope I got yours right."

"Yeah. You alright?" He mentally apologised for startling her.

Aurelai nodded, "Yes. Thank you. Uh... Are you heading home from work?" It was eight in the evening.

John shook his head. "No, I was just coming out of an interview with a client." He looked around them at the buildings. They were in Knightsbridge and there was no way he could afford to live in this borough. "Are you just heading out?"

Aurelai look at him strangely for it was an odd question, seeing as she wasn't 'heading out' but was heading home. A beat passed before she realised that he was assuming that the luxurious flat that she'd just locked up was her own. "Oh, no! Yes I'm leaving the house, but no, I don't live here. It's... It's too posh."

"Ah," he nodded.

"I'm a freelance artist and I do murals for people," she explained. "I swear I'm not breaking in or anything."

"Really?" He was intrigued by her occupation.

"Yeah," Aurelai nodded, misinterpreting his response. "Breaking into a building is just too much for my mind to wrap around. Imagine having to be alert the whole time, to know what you're looking to steal and having to be careful in not getting caught! It's way too much excitement for my air headed mind to handle."

John chuckled, "That's not what I meant. You do murals in people's homes?"

"It's a new trend these days." She dramatically looked around them and then widened her eyes. Conspiratorially lowering her voice, she said, "At least I'm trying to make it into one. I get paid for having fun!"

John laughed. This girl was definitely amusing. He wondered briefly how Aurelia was introduced to his eccentric friend. A cool breeze brushed past them and John noticed her shrink and shiver a little, "Are you busy, now? I was just heading to pick up some hot drinks and food. I'd love to have some company."

"That sounds like a good plan," Aurelai grinned mischievously, "Sherlock won't be happy to hear it though." She started following him.

John raised his eyebrows, "He wouldn't? Why's that?"

"That I'm going to eat with you first. He likes being the one to introduce and execute things first. Not having someone steal his ideas. Not that you're stealing, of course."

She was right. John smiled. "I''ll have to mention our trip to him then. Over and over and over."

They chose a coffee shop near Mayfair. Technically, John chose it, since Aurelai confessed that she still didn't know her way around London. Her motto was to just keep walking even after she was lost. She'd get to her destination eventually. But she usually didn't follow it when she had other people around. They didn't appreciate it.

"So, " John began after they made their orders. "When did you meet Sherlock?"

"Uhm..." she tried to calculate it in her mind. "I first met him...twelve years ago?"

John did the math - he had only known him for four. He sat back into his chair. Knowing Sherlock for twelve years was impressive, especially when she appeared to still be in such amicable terms with that eccentric consulting detective.

"But I actually don't really know him that well," she quickly added. "The first time I met him was really just a quick conversation - I actually forgot about it until he brought it up. He's got a really good memory. I wish I was like that. And I didn't meet him again until three years after. That's when I actually go to _know_ him... like how he likes his coffee and little pieces of information like his favorite places in Brighton to think. So technically, you could say that I've only known him for uh... nine years? What about you? Did you two grow up together?"

"Oh no." John energetically shook his head. The thought of growing up with Sherlock sounded impossible - one of them would likely have killed the other as a child. "I met him four years ago. He did this... reading thing. Definitely left an impression on me. I'm sure you know all about it."

The dark blonde tilted her head curiously, "Reading? No, I don't recall seeing him read any books. He was always busy working every time I saw him."

John scrunched his eyebrows together, intrigued at her lack of agreement. "No, not _reading_ reading_. _I was talking about... You know, how he deduces things. Tells a person's whole story before they even get a word out."

Aurelai didn't have an idea as to what he was talking about, so she pitched in the one thing that she knew. "I know he's a consulting detective."

"You mean you know don't know what I'm talking about?" Now John was intrigued.

Aurelia shook her head - genuinely confused. "Deducing... Well he did warn me about my... my best friend's ... ex-boyfriend. Sherlock explained all the of that guy's ticks from just seeing him across the restaurant."

"But he never did that with you? He does it with everyone." _Whether they want him to or not_, John added to himself.

Aurelai shrugged, unaffected. "Maybe Sherlock just didn't have the chance to. He was too focused on something else. I'm not that interesting anyways. Anyways, we were talking about you! Four years ago, what happened when he met you?"

"He somehow looped me into being his flatmate."

"Aw! I guess he really liked your company," Aurelai grinned.

John eyed her warily. Did she really even know Sherlock? "I doubt it. We'd only just met when he brought it up. He said he needed someone to split the rent fee with him. Before I knew it, he got me into going on these crazy cases with him. He kept bringing up my past experiences to get me to go along with him. I'm a former army doctor, you see."

"Oh," she made a face. "That wasn't very kind of him."

John shook his head in agreement. "No, it wasn't. But to be honest - and please don't tell Sherlock I said this - some part of me missed the excitement. I mean- I didn't miss the violence. But I needed something to keep me distracted. I guess I had trouble adjusting to the civilian life. Nothing ever happened to me."

"Are you still living with him?"

"No!" John shouted a little too enthusiastically, then quickly checked himself. "I-I... I moved out two years ago. I'm engaged now and living with my fiancee," his voice lightened up with he mentioned his partner.

"Congratulations on your engagement, then!" She gave him a genuine smile. It pleased her when she saw someone who was genuinely in love and at ease. Not infatuated. And certainly not manipulated.

"Thank you. Mary - her name's Mary - would like you, I'm sure."

Aurelai chuckled. "And I'm sure she's very lucky to have you."

The food and drinks arrived.

"What do you think of Sherlock?" John was interested in knowing what this sweet girl thought of the self confessed high maintenance sociopath.

"He's kind," she said without a moment's hesitation.

John choked into his tea.

She quickly grabbed a few napkins from the dispenser and handed the bunch to him. "Are you alright?"

John continued coughing but made hand gestures to let her know that he wasn't about to die from choking on tea.

When the coughs finally dispersed, John, in his scratchy voice, repeated her words - thinking that he heard wrong. "'He's _kind'_?"

Were they talking about the right Sherlock?

Aurelai looked at him oddly, had she given the wrong reply? Surely not, seeing as John appeared to be good friends with Sherlock. "Well yeah, Sherlock is kind."

John thought it over. Aurelai really was right in saying that she really didn't know Sherlock that well. Or the Sherlock twelve years ago and the Sherlock now were two completely different people. Though John couldn't imagine a young and _kind_ Sherlock. The more plausible theory was that Aurelai had something that Sherlock wanted and had to be kind on false pretenses with her. That idea... Or she was equally insane and incapable of judging people properly.

Aurelai continued, "He warned me about something when we first met. And... he was right about it. Then some stuff happened. Sherlock happened to be there, so the whole time, he made sure to help me out and that I was okay... If he hadn't been there, I don't... Anyways, I was really lucky that he popped by. Otherwise, I'd probably be depressed and probably in jail right now." Her voice lost its usual cadence.

John was experienced enough to recognize signs of trauma and didn't push her for details. "He... does have a knack for getting people in and out of jail."

He thought about Mrs. Hudson's husband. Her _late_ husband. Perhaps Aurelia had an interesting backstory like that.

Aurelai collected herself and tried to lighten the mood, "I've never been much for being a damsel in distress, but he played the knight part pretty well."

This time, John was glad he wasn't sipping his tea. "He must've been... uh, _nice_ to you then."

He never thought he would affiliate Sherlock with that word. When did anyone sane ever describe Sherlock as _nice_?

Aurelai nodded. "He's really good at noticing the small things. I'm sure you already know. But he has a tendency of missing the big picture. I took him to one of my favourite coffee shops and the barista started flirting with him. He didn't catch on. I tried to hint at him that she was a a good person and had date worthy traits. Then when she spilled some drinks on our table, he was the first to tell her that everything was fine. _But _he also started wiping up the spills with the napkin that had her number on it."

"She must've been mortified." John laughed.

"Yup. I never took him there ever again."

The rest of their meal went by with sharing and discussing stories and conversations they had with Sherlock. John, of course, was the one with more stories to share.

* * *

"Be careful on the Tube, Aurelia. It's late. Do you want me to come with you?" John offered. She was growing on him and it felt natural to take a fatherly role with her.

"Oh no, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" he checked.

Aurelai nodded.

"Then send me a text message when you get back safely, alright?"

She chuckled. "I will. See you on Saturday."

John smiled and nodded. He had invited her to tea with Mary and himself.

He had actually planned on inviting Aurelai to tea if he ever met her again. Following the afternoon that he'd met her, John immediately told his fiancee about the encounter and Sherlock's strange behaviour. Forming an intense debate on whether or not he should be impressed by or to pity the pretty red jacket lady for her acquaintanceship with Sherlock.

Mary's solution was to let herself meet the Aurelia herself. His fiancee claimed to be better at reading people than himself. Apparently both Sherlock and Mary agreed that John was too oblivious in noticing the good and bad in people's antics.

But in all honesty, John did believe that Mary and her would get along quite well, so he didn't see the harm in it. The both of them had a cheery and gentle disposition.

* * *

The next day, John entered into 221b Baker Street. He was headed to Sherlock's but stopped before he reached the staircase. Something was off. There was some sort of weird noise coming from Mrs' Hudson's kitchen. He immediately sidestepped the staircase and headed to find the landlady. Hopefully it wasn't another case of his ex-landlady being attacked by someone seeking to catch Sherlock's attention.

"Mrs Hudson?" John found her sitting in the kitchen, shaking and... laughing. "You alright?"

She failed to reply from her fit. John commented at her inability to reply, "I thought you were possibly dying."

"I'm sorry," Mrs Hudson apologized, tears coming down her face.

"What's wrong?" John didn't know whether to be worried or to laugh along with her.

Mrs Hudson shook her head and got up from her seat, and left the room while continuing her cackles. "The telegrams," was all he could make out from her as she passed by him.

Not knowing what else to do about his former landowner, John decided to go back upstairs and back to the task he'd come here to do. People were strange, it was best not to question it if he wanted to keep his own sanity.

When he entered the flat, he found Sherlock in his lab - which was formerly known as the kitchen. Sherlock was busy torching an eyeball and failed to acknowledge his presence.

"I saw Aurelia, yesterday." John began.

"Oh?" Sherlock didn't look up.

John stepped closer to the mad scientist. "We had supper together."

"Interesting." Sherlock started turning the eyeball, making sure that it was evenly toasted. Despite it all, John knew had Sherlock's attention.

"Mary won't be pleased by your interest in another young lady," Sherlock finally said.

John rolled his eyes and continued on, "Actually, she wants to meet her. So we're having tea together at Bee's on Saturday."

The eyeball slipped from Sherlock hands and into his glass of tea.

"Well, they do have good cake." Sherlock eventually said.

John blinked, confused by the change of subject. "What?"

"And plenty of jam. For the scones," the consulting detective continued.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned his attention to the blue flames and did not make any eye contact with his friend. "Good choice."

Ah, so Sherlock was talking about the tea room. John sighed, "Mind if I sit down?"

"Be my guest," his eyeball experiment would have to go for another day. He'd have to ask Molly for a second set, since his was now contaminated by water (stupid water). He shut off the blow torch. "Tea?"

John grimaced a little, having watched a human eyeball drop into one of the cups just seconds ago. He needed to change the subject to something that he had control over - the wedding. When it came to the wedding, Sherlock seemed more than cooperative. "So... The wedding. The big question... The best man."

He just needed a yes from Sherlock.

"The best man?" Sherlock repeated.

"What do you think?" He only needed a yes.

"Gavin?" Sherlock's hands were clasped in front of him.

"Who?" John bunched his eyebrows together. What was Sherlock going on about now?

"Gavin Lestrade?"

"It's Greg," John corrected. He still couldn't believe that the genius standing before him did not know Lestrade's first name. "And he's not my best man."

Sherlock thought for a second, "Oh, Mike Stanford, I see." Sherlock mentally frowned at himself - how could he miss such an obvious choice of best man for John? "Uh... He's nice. Though I'm not sure how he would cope with -"

"- No, Mike's great. But he's not my best friend." John's voice raised up a notch - part in annoyance and part in an attempt to get Sherlock's attention. Sherlock wasn't getting his point. John didn't know how on earth Sherlock wasn't catching on. "Look, Sherlock. This is the biggest and most important day of my life. And I want to be out there with the _two_ people that I love and care about the most in the world."

"Yes. Mary Morstan..."

"And?" John urged, his eyebrows going up as though his facial expression would help Sherlock figure out who the best man was meant to be.

Sherlock was thinking deeply, wracking his mind palace for the second individual. John could see it on his face. When he realized that Sherlock was struggling, he decided to give his friend a hand. "You."

Silence.

"Sherlock?"

A minute passed. Sherlock remained silent, apart from his involuntary blinking, he was utterly still.

Another minute passed.

John crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. This was nice. A speechless Sherlock. John _really_ wished he had a camera, or at least had someone, _anyone_, be there to watch this once in a lifetime event with him.

Another two minutes passed.

Finally, John broke the silence, "That's getting a bit scary now."

Sherlock blinked. "So... in fact... so you mean that I'm... your best... friend?"

"Yeah, of course you are," John smiled, realization dawning on him. He had never thought of it that way. But yes, it made sense for a best man to be the groom's best friend. He just knew that he wanted Sherlock to be his best man at the wedding. "Of course. You're my best friend."

Sherlock squinted at John, trying to process the new information.

The doctor watched his friend distractedly pick up a cup and drink from it - trying to process the new information. John immediately felt his appetite go away when he realized what was going on. The cup was the one that held the human organ.

John probably wasn't going to be sleeping well that night.

Once he placed the eyeball drink back down, John spoke up. "And how was that?"

Sherlock swallowed. "Surprisingly okay."


End file.
